


Cursed By the Gods

by TiyeTiye



Series: Things That Go Bump In The Night [4]
Category: Vikings - Fandom
Genre: Abandoned cities, Cursed by the gods, Fairy Tale Curses, General Creepiness, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Island of Crete, Just a Little Bit of Peril, Minoan civilization, Minotaur - Freeform, Palace of Knossos, monster attacks, things that go bump in the night - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:52:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: Running dangerously short of supplies on their voyage through the Mediterranean, Hvitserk and the rest of the Viking fleet are ecstatic to spot an island just when all hope seems lost. Sailing into its harbor, they discover a mysterious city that appears to be totally empty. They're wrong.





	Cursed By the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@brightlycoloredteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40brightlycoloredteacups).



They were down to their last day’s supply of water and were running short of food when they’d sighted the island far off to the south. Desperate for relief, they’d sailed into a wide, sweeping bay overlooked by a small walled city and high cliffs of pale stone. 

There was no dock when they sailed in, so the fleet beached their ships on the shore, and no one challenged them as they approached the city’s gates. Hvitserk felt a chill crawl up his spine as he followed Bjorn up the path, with Floki and his Uncle Rollo leading a column of warriors not far behind. He nearly ran into Bjorn when his older brother stopped dead in his tracks. The gates in front of them were hanging open, they city beyond them perfectly quiet. Bjorn drew his sword and crept forward, with Hvitserk following suit, the sounds of weapons being drawn continuing down the line behind him as he followed his brother through the open gates. 

The city inside was absolutely silent, the wind sighing through its empty streets its only sign of life.

“What happened here?” Hvitserk whispered, afraid to break the eerie quiet. 

“I don’t know,” Bjorn admitted. The bright mid-day sun beating down on the city showed no signs of invasion or fire - to Hvitserk it looked as though the people who’d lived here had simply disappeared.

“We should not be here Bjorn,” Floki said. “The gods have cursed this city. This is not a place for men. Not anymore.” 

“We need food,” Bjorn said, scanning the buildings with a wary eye. “And we may find some here. We do not have enough supplies to try and find another place. We will search here and then we will go and make camp on the beach.”

Floki grumbled but did not argue when Bjorn ordered the warriors to spread out and begin searching the buildings.

It was about an hour later when Hvitserk found the first body. 

Or, at least it used to be a body. What Hvitserk found was instead a pile of bones, of a person who in life had been smaller than him, a young woman perhaps, her bones long bleached white by the the island’s harsh sun. 

He told himself to ignore the teeth marks. 

He found more bodies as the day went on, laying in the street or lying on the floors of empty houses. He kept his sword drawn as he crept along the silent streets, his sense of foreboding increasing with every step even as his hunger drove him on. 

It was afternoon when Hvitserk found the ruined palace, its forests of red-painted columns stretching off as far as the eye could see. It had been too long since he had seen or heard from any of the others, but a place this big would have to have kitchens, and that meant food. 

After the sweltering heat of the day, Hvitserk shivered as he stepped inside. It was cool and dim inside the palace, with the occasional shaft of light stabbing down through the gloom whenever he passed a window or skirted the edge of a courtyard. 

There were skeletons in here too. Many more than he had found outside. All bearing the same teeth marks. 

Room after room he wandered through, past paintings and statues of strange gods, finding treasures enough to make him a king, but still no food. Hvitserk was trudging through a long corridor, starting to wonder about just how he was going to find his way out of there and back to the boats when he heard it.

A soft clopping sound, like a horses’ hooves, exactly matching the rhythm of his footsteps. 

Hvitserk stopped. So did the sound. 

“Bjorn? Floki? Uncle Rollo? Is that you?” Hvitserk called, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. No answer. 

Hvitserk started off again. So did the sound. 

It matched him step for step as he passed through an archway and into a wide, dim chamber with a raised dais on one side. Tamping down his fear, Hvitserk kept his steps even for a few seconds more, then gathered himself and leapt off his right foot, skipping a step. He landed in a silent crouch, but behind him, he heard the sharp, unmasked _clack_ of his pursuer’s footstep on the stone floor. 

Silence. Hvitserk slowly scanned the chamber, eyes struggling to pierce the gloom, desperate for any sign of this strange being following him. He clenched his hand around his sword and took deep, shuddering breaths.

Suddenly, it was as if an army had been let loose and Hvitserk heard the sound of a galloping horse bearing down on him accompanied by a strange, bestial roar. 

He ran. As fast as his feet could carry him. Out of the chamber with the dais, through room after room, past open courtyards flooded with the day’s waning sunlight, dashing down the long corridors until the breath burned in his lungs. It seemed as though it was working though. The sounds of his pursuer faded behind him, until Hvitserk could no longer hear them. 

He came to rest in a room full of tables covered in heavy cloths, leaning up against one of the red-painted columns. Gasping for breath, and he allowed himself a tiny smile. He’d made it. He was safe again. Now he just had to make it out of that palace, find Bjorn and the others, and get back to the beach and the boats. He could do that. Easy. 

Then the column just above his head exploded

A piece of it caught Hvitserk in the back of the head, throwing him forward just as a second blow shattered the column right where his head had been. Dazed, he snatched up his sword from where he’d dropped it, scrambled to his feet, and turned to face his attacker. 

It was a monster, something spat out of the depths of Helheim. The beast that stood before Hvitserk now, roaring in his face, was a cursed mix of man and beast. Its body was that of a man - bigger than Bjorn or even his Uncle Rollo, but its head was that of a bull topped with wickedly curved horns and it legs ended in cloven hooves. As Hvitserk gaped at it, the beast roared again, lowered its head, and charged. 

Hvitserk dodged, and as the beast turned to make another pass he slashed at it with his sword. Unafraid, the beast’s arm shot out and _caught_ the blade in its grip, nearly twisting it out of Hvitserk’s hands. The beast’s fingers were covered in the same hard, tough material as its hoofed feet, and Hvitserk could have sworn that the beast _smiled at him_ with human teeth as he yanked the blade back out of its grasp and swung at its neck. The beast just batted the blade aside with its other hand and lowered its head to charge once more. 

Darting away behind another column, Hvitserk sprinted away as the beast skidded to a stop on the floor and turned to follow him with a roar. Looking around him as he ran for something, _anything_ that might be able to help him in his escape, Hvitserk snatched a heavy cloth off a nearby table and dragged it behind him as he ran. He could hear the beast gaining on him, its footsteps ringing louder and louder off the walls, until at the last moment Hvitserk grit his teeth, flung the cloth to one side, and threw himself in the other direction.

In a miracle, the beast went for the cloth. Its sharp horns sliced cleanly through the old, dusty fabric, but before it could bring its hands up to pull the veil from its face, Hvitserk’s sword flashed through the air and laid its back open. Bellowing with rage, the beast turned to attack him again, but now Hvitserk had a small smile on his face. He had a plan. 

Snatching another cloth up off a table, Hvitserk waved it like a banner in his free hand as the beast bore down on him. He flung it up into the air, and as the beast lunged at it, Hvitserk went low and sliced his sword deep into its belly. He’d gotten too close though, and as the beast screamed in pain, its armored fist caught him in the face hard enough that he saw stars. Hvitserk was knocked backwards off his feet, the beast following closely behind. His vision cleared just in time to see the beast’s fist descending down at him, and as he rolled away he felt the _thud_ as it connected with the floor and shattered the brightly colored tiles. Twice, three times more, Hvitserk managed to avoid the beast’s fists, but as he scrambled to his feet he felt a sudden burning pain in his left side. When he turned to bring his sword back to bear, one of the thing’s horns was dripping red, and the monster smiled at him again. 

Something pricked at his consciousness as Hvitserk faced the beast. It sounded like his name, very faint, echoing from some far away chamber of the ruined palace. The beast noticed it too and Hvitserk saw its nostrils flare as its eyes flickered towards the door. 

“Hey! Here! Here! Come on then!” Hvitserk shouted, gritting his teeth through the pain in his side and waving his free arm as he slowly backed up. “Here! Come and get me!” 

The beast bellowed and turned back to Hvitserk, lowering its head for a final charge. Hvitserk let it get close enough until he could nearly see himself reflected in its wide black eyes, then threw himself backward into the table behind him. He landed flat on his back, and just as before the best drew back an armored fist to cave in his skull. Only this time, Hvitserk rolled to his left side and as the beast’s arm came down Hvitserk’s sword flashed through the air and took it off just above its elbow. Off balance, the beast stumbled and fell on top of him, trapping his left arm between their bodies. Hvitserk felt something _pop_ in his shoulder and felt an alarming _crack_ somewhere in his chest, and there was a momentary flash of pain as his nose connected with the back of the thing’s head, but before the beast could move Hvitserk’s right hand dropped his sword, reached for his belt, and pulled out his dagger. He slashed it across the beast’s neck with a shout, then plunged it over and over into the beast’s chest, screaming all the while, until the handle grew too slick with the monster’s blood for Hvitserk to keep ahold of it. By that point, the beast had long grown still. 

Dropping the knife, Hvitserk tried to push the carcass off of him, but the monster’s weight was too heavy for him to lift by himself. He dimly heard someone calling his name, and gasped in pain when he tried to draw a deep breath to answer them. 

“Here….I’m…I’m in here…” he managed to croak out. Moments later, Floki’s face swam through his vision, closely followed by Bjorn’s. That was the last thing Hvitserk saw before he blacked out and he knew no more. 


End file.
